Rotten Apple
by V. Tsai
Summary: Vermouth: Highly ranked Black Organization agent, skilled at near-impenetrable disguises, excellent at deception, and, most recently, an alleged traitor. When the Black Organization turn on Vermouth, what will she do? How will she get out of this trap? The answer: With the help of Edogawa Conan, Sherry, and "Catalina Bond." ***COWRITTEN WITH CUTIEPIE5514***
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everybody~! It's... uh... usssssss! Well, "ussssssss" being V. Tsai and cutiepie5514. We're going to coauthor a fic today and it will be spectacular! We hope. On with the show.**

* * *

**Vermouth POV**

They suspected me of being a traitor. Me, of all people. I could tell as Gin stood in my doorway, smiling his creepy smile. "Good morning, Vermouth."

I smiled hesitantly back. "Hello, Gin. What's new with _that_ person?"

"Oh, nothing. Except that now we have proof that you're working with her," he snarled at me.

"Is that so." I uncrossed my legs nonchalantly and stood up. "I'd like to see that proof."

"I bet you would," Gin sneered. "I had Vodka go through your things this morning and we found some notes addressed to _her._ If that's not proof, I'd like to know what is."

"So are you here to kill me, then?"

"No, we're going to do one better. We're going to get your information."

"And how exactly do you think you're going to do that? Surely you don't believe I'd go down without a fight, Gin. Don't you know me better than that?" I smiled sweetly and ducked for my gun, but Gin was faster. He pulled out his own pistol and promptly shot at me. I gasped but tried to stifle it as I felt the bullet pierce my shoulder.

I cringed and clutched my now aching shoulder. I saw the blood flowing out from the wound and staining my crisp white shirt a deep crimson color.

Next thing that I knew, Vodka was grabbing me and dragging me towards the room where we keep prisoners. The room that I knew so well because I had spent so long trying to figure out how _she_ had escaped it. I had analyzed every inch of it, but I still hadn't figured it out yet.

Which meant... there would be no escape for me.

Vodka roughly shoved me against a wall and patted me down, checking for weapons. He found all seventeen of them, handing all of them to Gin, who sniggered. I vowed to kill him later, if I came out of this alive.

"Eh? What's this?" Vodka pulled out a boxish object, turning to show it to Gin.

"Ha. Leave those. She's too selfish to use them anyway."

Vodka shrugged, stuffed the object back into my pocket, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Now, now, Vermouth, don't resist."

_Yeah, like I'm in a good place to resist_, I thought sourly, turning away so as to appear indifferent. Soon I heard the sound of handcuffs snapping shut and felt pinches around my wrists.

I examined my new shackles. They fit around my wrists tighter than ever; if I even moved my hands a little bit, skin would rub off.

I lowered my gaze, trying to calm myself by picturing Gin with his hair cut off. A small smile slid across my _lips._

_"That_ person will be here shortly," I heard Gin growl. Twin sets of footsteps pattered out of the room, and a door closed, the sound echoing through the enclosed space.

Checking that Gin and Vodka were gone, I frantically dug through the secret pockets of my red-stained shirt, hoping for something I could possibly use as a tool for escape, something overlooked by Gin and Vodka.

My fingers suddenly grasped around the box that Vodka had replaced. I frowned slightly, unsure of its contents. Wincing in pain as my shoulder twinged from the movement, I tugged the box free of the pocket and snapped it open.

Inside was an array of specially made poisons, ranging from ones shaped like vitamins to others that were easily dissolvable. They came in handy when I was assigned tasks such as killing operatives discreetly, poisoning witnesses, the like.

One in particular caught my eye. It was split into two colors, one side red and the other white. It had been designed and formulated by _her._ APTX 4869.

It was then I realized it was the killing poison. The one that had left so many unknown results. My thoughts went back to the list of results of who had died from that poison. Kudo Shinichi. He had been given that poison. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive through it too. But, what good would that do me? Most likely if I took any of the poisons in this cold metal box I would die. Thoughts sped quickly through my brain. If I took any of these, I wouldn't have to suffer the torture Gin would put me through.

I weighed all of my options carefully. Unfortunately, I only saw two. Suffer Gin's torture while he tried to get me to let out information that I personally believed to be extremely precious or die now and in my own way. It would be a slap in the face to Gin and dying honorably. Well, as honorably as you can when you're a high-ranking member of the Black Organization.

I pulled out the pill. It seemed like such a small thing, yet it was capable of so much. Smiling softly, I slipped it into my mouth, feeling its smooth surface rest on my tongue. Last chance to turn back.

_What's that, Gin? I'm too selfishto use any of these? _

_We shall see about that._

And I swallowed it.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is Chapter 2 of our story! We hope you like it. **

_Vermouth POV_

I felt a wave of excruciating pain ravage my body. At first I was extremely cold, then I was overwhelmingly hot. I felt my body getting weaker and weaker against this pain that was taking over me. I could feel my limbs twitching at all sorts of weird angles. As much as I hated Gin and wanted to defy him, now I just wanted this all to stop.

I battled the poison that was intruding my system as long as I could. I didn't know yet if this was a mistake. Did I really want to die? I thought it all over as I felt my body finally go limp, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.

_Is it over?_

Apparently not, because the pain suddenly jump-started again, this time even more tortuous. Whereas before the pain had been sharp and controlling, now it had changed to a burning agony that seemed to be melting my bones.

All of the pain seemed to slowly fade as black spots started to cloud my vision. In a matter of seconds, it all went black. It was over.

* * *

I woke up to see my surroundings hadn't changed. Everything was just the same as it was when I had been gasping what I had thought were my last breaths. I looked at the dull grey walls around me. It didn't make sense. Shouldn't I be dead?

I finally realized something was different when I saw the shackles that had once been on my wrists were now lying on the ground. Why had they been taken off?

As I looked down at my recently freed hands, it was hard to stifle a gasp. They were small, the size of a child's. I surveyed myself by looking in the reflection of the cold metal box that was still clutched in one of my hands. I had the appearance of my 7-year old self. I looked at my long blond hair and wide blue eyes. _This had to be it._

It was obvious that this was how she escaped. How had I not seen it sooner? All the signs pointed to this conclusion, I just hadn't put the pieces together.

I was abruptly shaken from my shocked stupor by a low murmur of voices slowly drawing closer to my prison. What?

_That's right! Gin's coming back here with_ that_ person to see about torturing me!_

Thoughts of panic racing through my head, I scrambled to find a hiding place, tripping over my now overlong clothing in my haste. As the footsteps and voices got louder, I spotted a large piece of machinery across the room. I ran across the floor, my feet sliding in my socks and shoes.

Barely managing to make it in time to tuck myself out of sight as the door creaked open, my heart began to palpitate rapidly. I placed one shrunken hand over it, trying to muffle the sound as I heard Gin walk into the room, along with two other pairs of footsteps.

There was an awkward silence, and I grinned despite myself at the mental image of Gin, Vodka, and_ that_ person finding an empty room when promised a traitor.

"So... Vermouth is...?" That person's voice rang throughout the room, dangerously serene. "I do believe, Gin, that you said you had one traitor ready for torture, in this room. Would you mind explaining to me why there is nothing here but a few bloodstains and a pair of uninhabited handcuffs? Hm?"

I poked my head out from behind the machine cautiously to view the scene, the temptation too great to resist.

"W-What happened, Aniki?" Vodka stammered, grabbing Gin's shoulder in obvious disbelief.

"Don't touch me," Gin growled. Hm? That was strange. Gin was always cool and collected.

"But -"

"I SAID, DON'T TOUCH ME!" Gin roared, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at Vodka's head. The heavyset man stepped back, at a loss for words.

I smiled, pulling my head back in hiding. _Wow, he's never gotten so openly angry... Nice to know little old me can do something so miraculous to dear Gin._

"Anyway, Gin," _that_ person said, his/her voice icy now. "Would you care to clean up your mess? Or shall I do it for you?" I heard the apparent superiority in his/her tone, as well as the sound of his/her gun cocking menacingly.

"I can do it," Gin said in a way that made him sound anything but furious. Further in his tone, you could tell there was a hidden disappointment. _Huh, Gin? You're sad that I outsmarted you once more? Well, get used to it._

_That_ person sighed deeply. "Get going, then. Seems like our list of traitors has been expanding recently..." he/she murmured as he/she strolled out of the room.

I tucked myself further behind the machinery, concealing a shiver. Thank goodness I had my small childhood frame to use.

Meanwhile, Gin bent down and picked up the empty handcuffs off the floor. Glaring at them, he suddenly frowned and snapped them in half.

_Ooh, you're really scary. I wouldn't want to get on your bad side. Oh, wait. I think I already have that one covered._

"What are you waiting for? Clean that foul, traitorous blood off of our floors," he shouted fiercely at Vodka before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

Vodka raced out the door and quickly returned with various cleaning supplies. I cringed as he got surprisingly close to the huge machine. Luckily, he happens to be the most dimwitted thing on the planet and wouldn't notice if there was a polar bear hiding behind it.

Vodka soon exited the room carrying a mop drenched in my blood behind him, leaving the door unlocked. Perfect.

I walked out from behind the big piece of machinery. I stretched out my limbs slowly and felt a spark of pain as I stretched out my arm. I turned my head and saw the bullet still lodged deep within me. I guess shrinking didn't change the fact that I had been shot.

Now, let's see... In order to escape the impenetrable fortress also known as the Black Organization headquarters, what should I do first?

Maybe wait until nighttime, when most of the agents will be out making deals and assassinating people. I sat down beside my new best friend (the piece of machinery) and began to tear the legs of my pants down to fit my new size, as well as the arms of my shirt. I used the scraps to wrap my bullet wound and sighed, waiting for night to come.

* * *

I crept towards the door and, being careful that my fingerprints were covered by an extra piece of fabric from my shirt, turned the door handle. The door opened with an audible creak, causing me to wince and glance around frantically.

The hallway outside of my prison was long, narrow, and thankfully deserted. I sneaked slowly throughout the halls like I was trained to. Being an experienced assassin had its benefits.

I silently glided towards the corner and let myself peer to see if anyone was waiting. I saw a low-ranking agent leaning lazily against the wall. (At least, I assumed she was low-ranking, since I didn't have the slightest idea who she was.) How naive; she wasn't even on guard.

I rounded the corner and stuck to the shadows as I made my way smoothly to the exit. I was almost to the door when I tripped over my own feet. I was so close, too.

"Who's there?" The rookie's face went from carefree to panicked the second she heard my little thud.

I held my breath and just hoped that she wouldn't find me. But no. That would be too simple a getaway for me. The agent walked across the corridor to right where the sound came from. Which was, "coincidentally" enough, right where I was currently trying to become one with the floor.

A mix of emotions crossed the girl's face as her eyes landed on me. She was younger than I thought, maybe only 20. She must've known that it was standard protocol to bring any intruder of the facility to the cells immediately.

"What are you doing, sweetie?" Her voice sounded strained and worried. Sweetie? Didn't she know who I was? I was a top agent here, with a full-fledged alcoholic name and - Oh. I was currently three feet tall. That would explain the mix of emotions that she was showing. She didn't want an innocent child to be harmed.

"Innocent" child. _As if._

"It-it was a dare. My friends told me that no one ever comes back once they step foot inside here. I wanted to prove them wrong." I had to work to make my voice quaver believably. "And now I'm lost." I stuck out my bottom lip pitiably. Hey, I wasn't a world-famous actress for nothing, you know.

"Go, now." She ordered in what she thought was a strict tone. My strict would make her sound pathetic. Well, even more pathetic, if that was even possible.

"The exit's over that way. Go, now," she continued.

"Thank you, neechan!" As she directed me to the exit, I had to bite back a smile as I ran out of headquarters. I was free to create a new name, a new start...

But before that, I had a very special detective agency to stop at.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three of Rotten Apple is here! Everyone enjoy.**

Vermouth POV

I trudged slowly through the deserted streets of the city. No one was out at this hour, and if they were, they certainly weren't showing themselves. In this body, walking through an empty city at nighttime is probably not such a good idea. Unfortunately, it was the only one I had.

I crossed street after street, the occasional car whizzing by me. Ignoring the cold that plucked at my face, I racked my mind, trying to remember. _The Mouri Detective Agency... It's in Beika Town, right? And... in district 5, I think?_

I checked my current location. I was in district 2. Letting out a sigh, I changed courses._ I guess I'm going to have a lot of walking to do._

* * *

It was very early morning, maybe 2 a.m., when I finally found myself standing before the two-story detective agency run (in name only) by Mouri Kogoro. Stretching my aching legs, I heaved a loud sigh and marched up the stairwell, passing the unlit agency, and stopping at the door leading into the Mouri family's living space.

Biting my lip in slight hesitation, I reached up and rapped on the door hard. "H-Hello?" I called, my voice quavering somewhat childishly as I knocked again, harder this time.

I heard an almost inaudible stirring behind the door. "Hello? Is anybody home?" I yelled louder, encouraged.

After a few quiet minutes, the door slowly yawned open. I looked up to see a drunken and confused Mouri Kogoro staring at me.

"Whaddaya want?" He slurred at me. I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. I then realized his question. What was my plan? How should I play this?

"Whaddaya want?" He questioned louder, obviously annoyed at my lack of response.

"Don't yell at this girl!" I heard the voice of Mouri Ran, his daughter._ Angel_. She came and kneeled in front of me. "Are you one of Conan's friends?" I pondered this for a second, should I say I was? No, too risky. If he was here, that would only make him suspicious of me.

I shook my head at her. "I-I need h-help. My shoulder hurts real badly." I heard the quake in my voice as I put a look of self-pity on my face.

My statement made the teenager go into hyper-drive, just like I knew it would. She slid the pant-leg bandages off of my injured shoulder. I heard her stifle a gasp when she saw the bullet lodged in my shoulder.

"H-How did you get this? What happened? Where are you parents? What's your name?" Ran queried frantically, herding me into the Mouris' kitchen.

"I - er - There was a bad man, and he - uh... there was a gun...?" I answered awkwardly, allowing myself to be pulled to the kitchen table and sat down in one of the seats.

_Okay... maybe I should've thought of an excuse during the hours it took to get here._

"What?" Mouri yelped, suddenly wide awake. "There was a 'bad' man? Where? Were you kidnapped?"

"Dad!" Ran admonished as she pulled out a fresh roll of bandages from underneath the sink. "Just because you haven't had a case in a month doesn't mean you can harass... uh... I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Uh... my name is... C... Catalina... erm... Bond?"

"Oh, so are you from America, Catalina?" Ran wondered as she gently cleaned my bullet wound. I winced at the string of antiseptic and nodded.

"Ah, yes... oneesan."

"Can you tell us anymore about the 'bad' man, Catalina?" She asked me slowly.

"Um. I didn't really see him that well. It was very... dark. The gun was really... scary, too." I had to be careful with my word choice. If I described the gun as a .45 caliber Smith & Wesson model SW1911 pistol, I think they'd know something was off.

"So, where are your parents?" Ran asked, probably wondering who to return this poor, injured child to.

"I lost them today. That's what I was doing when the bad man got, looking for my parents." I came up with the most plausible situation I could.

"You poor thing! Do you know their first names? My dad is a detective, he can probably find them." I heard the apparent worry in her voice.

"Um, Daddy's name is James... and Mommy's name is Abigail." James Bond? I felt like hitting myself for my stupidity, but I had already said it and couldn't go back now.

"You talked about someone named Conan before. Who is that?" I asked nonchalantly.

Ran smiled at me and said, "He lives here with us while his parents are away. I bet you guys are around the same age. How old are you?"

I hadn't really factored this into the equation. It wasn't that hard to come up with an estimate, though, I had already spent most of my life lying about my age.

"I'm seven," I said convincingly.

"I was right! Conan is seven as well. Right now he's on a camping trip with his classmates and a family friend. He'll be back in the morning. Meanwhile, Catalina, you can sleep here until Conan gets back. Then we'll decide what to do about your parents. Oh, and I think your injury should be okay. We probably won't need to take you to the hospital," Ran told me.

"Where's tha brat gonna sleep?" interjected Mouri, seeming to have fallen back into his drunken stupor.

"That's right! Would be it be okay for you to sleep in Conan's room for just tonight? It's so late," Ran begged, yawning widely.

"Okay, oneesan. By the way, what's your name?"

"Oh, I forgot! Sorry. My name is Mouri Ran and my father is Mouri Kogoro. He's a very famous detective. Have you heard of him?"

"Oh, yeah, he's that 'Sleeping Kogoro,' right?"

"Yeah, tha's me," Mouri slurred, stumbling towards his room.

"Let's follow his lead and go to sleep, okay, Catalina?" Ran started for her own room. "Conan's room is over there."

"Thanks, Ran-neesan," I chirruped. As I entered Conan's room and smiled at the Tokyo Spirits posters decorated the walls, I thought, _Well, I'll be seeing you tomorrow morning, Silver Bullet._

* * *

"I'm home!" a childish voice announced in the distance shredding my peaceful dream into dust.

"Welcome home, Conan!" I heard Ran reply cheerfully.

Moaning slightly, I cracked my eyes open to find that it was late morning already. For a moment, I was bewildered, struggling out of Conan's sheets and falling to the floor with a thump before I remembered the events of yesterday.

"Huh? What was that, Ran-neechan?" Conan asked. I heard soft footsteps come towards the bedroom, and before I could prepare myself, Conan opened the door to find me lying on his floor.

Instantly his eyes widened. "V-V-Ver -"

"Shut up!" I launched myself at him, hands flailing in an attempt to dissuade him from saying my codename aloud.

"Vermouth!"

_Oh great._

"Ver... mouth?" Ran asked, walking into Conan's room. "I think you're a little confused, Conan. This is Catalina Bond. She came here last night when you were gone. She was wounded and she can't find her parents, so we're having her stay here while we decide what to do."

"B - But..." He looked from Ran to me and then back to Ran with eyes clouded in confusion.

"But what, Conan? We need to help this girl find her parents. Aren't you usually the one who jumps right on board whenever there's a case?" Ran asked, not sure what to make of Conan's unusual behavior.

"You two have to come out, breakfast will be ready soon." Ran ushered us out of the room. I walked out slowly, and I could almost feel the suspicious glares that were getting thrown my way.

We ate in a concerning silence until Ran broke the tension.

"Conan, why don't you take Catalina to Agasa's today? You were already going, right?" Ran asked happily.

I tried to hide my smirk as Conan's eyes widened in disbelief.

"But... but..." He trailed off, unable to finish his thought without giving away everything.

"But what?" Ran asked, getting slightly irritated. "Catalina needs something to do today. Why can't she come?"

"Fine." Conan mumbled and finished off his breakfast.

_Let's see... Agasa Hiroshi, neighbor and lifelong friend of Kudou Shinichi. Inventor. Knows of the Black Organization's existence. And is currently housing a certain brown-haired "seven"-year-old._

I smiled; Conan, seeing this, glared furiously at me, but I ignored him.

_This is going to be very, very interesting._


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this chapter is sort of late, both of us were busy. But anyway, here's Chapter four. Enjoy~!**

* * *

Conan was _still_ glaring ferociously at me twenty minutes later as we started on our way towards Professor Agasa's house. I could almost feel his gaze lasering off a portion of my face.

Sighing, I stopped walking and turned to face him. "What?"

"Do you honestly think that I'm going to let you do whatever you want without the slightest bit of an explanation, _Vermouth?"_ he enunciated, emphasizing "Vermouth."

"Really, _Kudou,_ I'm the same as Sherry," I countered, pointedly using "Kudou." "And there is your 'slightest bit of an explanation' right there." I started walking again.

Conan hurried to catch up, grabbing my shoulder to stop me. It didn't work, as I frowned and walked at an even faster cadence. "What do you mean by that?!"

"Well, first of all, both of us are now traitors. I was locked in the same room as her. We took the same poison, obviously. And both of us hate Gin."

"Do you think I'm really going to believe that you just _suddenly_ got booted out of the Organization?" He asked suspiciously.

I didn't turn to face him and kept up my brisk pace. "Yes, I do." I said finally. "And if you don't, well... that's your own problem."

Conan didn't respond, but I felt his grip on my shoulder tighten before letting go abruptly. "Fine." He began to follow me, matching my pace wordlessly.

We neared the residence I knew belonged to Agasa.

Smiling, I knocked on the door of the huge house. The professor opened the door and looked down to see us.

"Ah, Shi - I mean, _Conan._ Is this one of your friends?" Agasa corrected himself quickly. My smile widened as she appeared behind him, clad in a miniature lab coat. Just like old times.

_"You!"_ She exclaimed loudly. "You're... You're _Vermouth."_ Her eyes widened in shock and I tried not to laugh at her startled expression as it quickly morphed into indescribable fear.

"Ah yes, Sherry." I responded coolly. "Isn't it nice to see you again." Inviting myself in, I breezed past the bewildered professor and the stock-still ex-Sherry and made my way to the couch.

Professor Agasa stared at me, his head whipping from side to side as he looked first at Conan, then at Sherry, then back at me. "W - What? This little girl - is Vermouth? Chris Vineyard?"

I yawned nonchalantly, stretching out my short legs as I sat down on the couch. "Well, technically, my name is Catalina Bond now. But that's correct, I have been called Chris Vineyard. And Sharon Vineyard and Dr. Araide. Please, feel free to call me any of those names." I grinned maliciously at the sight of Sherry's eyes widening even further as she clutched frantically at Conan, who had just entered the house and shut the door.

"Haibara. Professor Agasa. We need to talk," Conan stated in a low voice.

"So I'm not included in this little talk of yours? If so, I'd like to take a little tour around your very interesting house, Professor Agasa." I hopped off the couch.

"No. This talk concerns _you,_ Vermouth, more than anyone else here," Insisted Conan.

"Oh, really?" I asked nonchalantly. "What is this talk about?"

"It's about you telling us why you are in this... form." Conan said seriously.

"I'm in this form because I took the same poison that you both took. Gin suspected me of being a traitor the same way he suspected you, Sherry. I figure we're just about the same now."

"We will _never_ be the same." She eyed me with disgust plain in her eyes, the fear taking a backseat.

I laughed lightly. "Oh, but we are. We both were suspected of being traitorous, we both were locked up, we both took the same poison, and we both went for the same place for help."

"You want us to help you?" Disbelief laced her voice.

I crossed my small legs slowly. "I figure we could help each other."

"No," Sherry hissed, her voice low and tight with controlled fury.

_Oooh, looks like little Sherry's gotten over her irrational fear of me._

"Haibara." Conan interrupted. "We should listen to her." His eyes studied me as if to discern if I were telling the truth.

"We can't trust her. She was made to live a lie. She was a top-ranking agent who never showed a single sign of disloyalty to them. Why should we believe her now?!" Sherry burst, turning to glare at Conan.

"Actually, my dear Sherry, I _have_ shown quite a few 'signs of disloyalty' as you put it. For instance, I have known that innocent little Edogawa Conan is actually Kudou Shinichi. And I've known that you, Sherry, are Haibara Ai for quite a long time. But did you also know that I have never told Gin _a single word_ about that?" I hissed, starting to feel somewhat nettled.

"That's not true," Haibara said, but her voice showed her uneasiness. She slanted a glance at Conan. "It... isn't... right?"

"No, what she's saying is true, Haibara," Conan responded gently. "She has known. And obviously she hasn't told Gin, because, as you can probably see, we're both still breathing."

He turned to me. "Vermouth, though we've had our... differences, I'm feeling somewhat inclined to believe that you were abandoned by the Black Organization."

I smiled triumphantly at Sherry.

I was about to respond when the front doors flew open. There, in the doorframe, stood three kids. There was one large, fat boy, one thin, freckled one, and a small, short-haired girl wearing a headband.

"Conan!" The girl exclaimed. "We were looking for the - who's that?" Her eyes landed on me and she obviously forgot her statement.

Sherry, who had obviously not thought of _this_ plot twist to our little drama, gaped at them. "You guys -"

"Well? Who is she?" the fat one asked. "And why is her arm all bandaged up?"

"She's - er -" Conan stammered.

"Professor Agasa, are _you _going to tell us who she is?" the freckled boy sighed.

"Shi - Conan...?" stuttered the professor, looking at Conan rather panickingly.

Sighing loudly, I walked towards them. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Catalina Bond, and I'm from America. Last night I was attacked by a bad man and was shot in the arm. I'm currently staying with the Mouris."

"You were shot?" the thin boy said disbelievingly. "Have you found the bad man yet?"

"Hey! Let's find out who that bad man who shot her is!" the large kid exclaimed.

"Yeah! It's a case for the DETECTIVE BOYS!" all three yelled at once.

Somewhat taken aback, I blinked at them. "Uh..."

"We're the Detective Boys!" the girl explained, bouncing excitedly. "I'm Yoshida Ayumi -" she pointed at herself, " - he's Tsubaraya Mitsukhiko -" she motioned at the freckled boy, " - and he's Kojima Genta! Nice to meet you, Catalina!"

"So where did this bad man shoot you?" Mitsuhiko asked.

"What did he look like?" Genta questioned.

"Where are your parents?" Ayumi queried.

I continued blinking. "The - wh - I was... kidnapped?"

Overwhelmed by all the questions, I looked over all three of the kids, weighing my options and their intelligence. I decided I would do what little kids do best. And I cried.

I can't say it wasn't hard. I haven't shed a tear for several years (or, well, since I was born), so the action was cold and foreign.

"Are you alright?" Ayumi asked, concerned.

"My... parents... I... lost them." I explained my 'situation' between sobs.

"Don't worry." Mitsuhiko said consolingly. "There's no case the Detective Boys can't solve."

I nodded shakily, using all my acting skills that I had acquired over the years right now.

And underneath my fake tears, I smiled to myself as the children babbled comforting words to me. Because, after all, I now had Silver Bullet on my side. And my new life was just beginning.


	5. Chapter 5 ROMANCE ALERT

**Chapter five is (finally) started! Hoorah. Enjoy.**

****Author's Note: This chapter is MOSTLY romance. If you don't read romance or don't read this story FOR romance, please skip this chapter. This note is to avoid angry reviews and/or flames. Have a nice day :D - V. Tsai****

I was sitting by myself on the Mouris' couch the next day when the front door creaked open. Conan walked in, his backpack slung over his shoulders casually.

"Oh. Welcome home," I said, blinking.

"I've been thinking, Vermouth," said Conan without preamble. "Why did the Black Organization think you were a traitor?"

My mouth opened slightly, suddenly going bone dry. "Wh - why would you ask that?" I stammered.

"I was thinking it about it at school today. So why is it?"

I sat in silence, avoiding Conan's probing gaze by casting my eyes down into my lap.

"Why is it?" he reiterated.

_The reason? Well... it was because of... him..._

* * *

***cue flashback***

* * *

"So, Vermouth."

From my spot on a barstool in the Organization's bar, I frowned and turned, glass of vermouth (heh heh) in hand, towards the source of the sound. Finding a long-haired idiot standing there, I let out a loud sigh to indiscreetly let him know of my discomfort.

"What is it, Gin?"

_"That_ person has a new mission for you." Gin smiled frigidly and stepped aside with a swish of fabric to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered blond man. He shifted from one foot to the other, giving off an aura of restlessness, yet from his physique I could tell he had quick reflexes and a surprising amount of strength. When I looked at him, he met my scrutiny with a heated glower.

I felt my eyebrows go up. "And what does this mission have to do with this... person?"

"His name's Irish. We need him to infiltrate the police force," explained Gin shortly. "And so we need you to help him with disguising." He sneered. "That's the only thing you're good at, after all."

Sending Gin a sickly sweet smile, I rose to my feet, stilettos clicking on the glossy marble tiling. "I can help with that." I set my half-full glass down on the counter. "Now, how do we want to do this?"

"Well, when do you want to start?" Irish shrugged, now bouncing on the balls of his feet. My eyes narrowed at the excessive movement. _What's with this guy?_

"I'll leave you two to it," Gin cut in, withdrawing from our conversation. Both of us followed as he left the bar, hair swishing out behind him, almost like a cape.

"God, I hate that guy," Irish murmured, and I whirled to stare piercingly at him. Startled, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Is that the voice of insubordination I hear?" I smirked playfully, sitting back down and beckoning him to follow. He complied, sliding onto the stool beside mine.

"No, it's just... He killed someone I admired," Irish responded gruffly, lifting a large hand to flag down the bartender. "Whiskey, please." The bartender, a young, inexperienced agent who only showed skill in bartending, nodded wordlessly and poured the hulking man a glass.

"Let me tell you this, Irish," I advised, shaking out a cigarette and placing it delicately between my lips, "Gin has killed many people that many others might've admired. There's nothing you can do that will make him stop or would ever change the fact that he has. The best thing to do is to forget about it."

There was a squeal of wood against marble as Irish stood up, his stool toppling out from underneath him, and slammed down his whiskey glass so hard it shattered nearly into dust. He turned to glare at me, his eyes showing anger and... was that hurt? It was hard to tell.

"Don't talk about forgetting! You have no idea how hard it is to forget something like that!" raged Irish. "Piscos was like a father to me, Vermouth, and you tell me to _forget_ about him?! Forget that the man who killed him is still alive and that I _know_ who he is?!"

For some reason, his words reminded me of someone. It took me a moment to remember who it was.

The answer came to me in a flash. His words reminded me of _Sherry,_ how she had demanded a reason for her sister's murder until she had been imprisoned and waiting for death. Speaking of which, I still hadn't figured out how she had escaped...?

Pushing the thought aside, I extracted the cigarette from my lips and ground it out on the counter (the bartender stifled an exclamation of horror). "Fine then, Irish. Don't forget, and live with the anger and hate. Now, I'm supposed to teach you disguise techniques," I stated icily. "I think Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday work for me. See you at my room at headquarters on those days. 8-10 in the mornings until your infiltration mission."

I could feel his still simmering eyes on my back as I stood and stormed out of the bar.

* * *

I was sprawling out on my bed a few days later, fiddling with my silver poison box absently, when I heard a knock on my door. Frowning in slight puzzlement, I called, "Come in."

The door swung open, revealing the tall, muscular form of Irish.

_Oh that's right, I have to teach him how to disguise. What fun._

"Oh, hello, Irish," I greeted with a tranquil smile. "Hold on, I'd like to gather my supplies." I rose and started to make for my desk, where I kept my mask-making materials, but Irish crossed the room in a few strides and intercepted me.

Feeling his hand encircle my wrist in a tight clasp, I blinked and glanced at him. His eyes were completely serious, his eyebrows knit. "I'd like to apologize for yelling at you, Vermouth. I know you were just trying to help."

"Are you still thinking about that?" I scoffed, trying to make it seem like nothing, though truthfully over the course of the last few days, I had frantically thought about my actions, trying to decide if they had been appropriate for the situation or not.

"Yes," he answered concisely.

"It wasn't that big of a de -"

"Yes. Yes, it was. I'm sorry, Vermouth," Irish apologized, staring directly into my eyes. I felt myself shiver, and I tugged at his grasp, but he didn't relinquish his hold. "I shouldn't have expected you to understand what it feels like to lose somebody you love."

"Well, if you insist, I apologize. I guess I was in the wrong... a-as well," I replied, turning away from his overly serious eyes and pulling at his grip again. This time he let go.

Even though my back was to him as I shakily pulled open my desk drawers to collect my latex masks and paints, I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Thank you."

* * *

"So the infiltration mission starts tomorrow?" I asked, resting my face on my hand as I sat across from Irish a table in the restaurant part of the Black Organization bar.

Irish grinned, and I could tell he was anticipating putting his disguising skill to the test. "Yeah. It's the first police meeting."

"Which I will be attending," I added as the bartender set down a plate of steaming food in front of each of us. "Don't forget about me, Commissioner Matsumoto."

"I would never," Irish answered in the commissioner's voice.

"Well, thanks for calling me out to have dinner. I'm honored," I said honestly. Irish grinned and elevated his glass of wine, signifying a toast.

"Let's hope for the best," he toasted, and I smiled and raised my own glass. Our glasses touched with a fragile clink, and I paused before sipping my wine.

_Really... when did I get so soft?_

* * *

"So where's Irish?" I asked, glancing around the conference table. It had been a day since the conclusion of Irish's mission, and _that_ person, Gin, and I were conferring on the subject.

"He's dead," Gin said, a haughty smile spreading across his face.

"He - He's what?" I stammered, heart shuddering to a stop.

_That_ person looked at Gin accusingly, exhaling. "You didn't tell Vermouth?"

Gin grinned his predatory smile. "Must've slipped my mind. Sorry."

I was aware of my lips opening and closing wordlessly, but I didn't try to stop myself. I was too far into shock. _Irish... is_ dead?_ But..._

"You okay, Vermouth?" _that_ person wondered, raising a slightly concerned eyebrow at my amazing impersonation of a fish out of water.

I forced my mouth shut and swallowed. "Of course. Who did it, anyway?"

"Oh, it was Chianti," Gin answered.

My fists clenched underneath the table. _Chianti... I will kill you..._

"Wasn't it on _your_ orders, though, Gin?" _that_ person asked.

_What?_ My eyes widened.

"You got me," Gin smirked.

"A good plan, wasn't it? That Irish was already starting to show signs of disloyalty and rebellion. No doubt he would've talked if he had been caught by the police," _that_ person commented approvingly.

I was back into gasping fish mode.

Noticing, Gin scoffed, "Are you all right, Vermouth? Wait, don't tell me... you _fell_ for that guy?"

Now I had both Gin and _that_ person's attention.

"Is that true, Vermouth?" _that_ person inquired, simultaneously sounding curious, revolted, and incredulous.

Composing myself, I set my lips in a straight line. "Of course not. I'm not that weak. I'm quite offended you would even consider that I would ever fall for such an... idiot and traitorous man," I said, making sure that my voice sounded vastly scandalized. To add effect, I flipping my hair over my shoulder and huffed out a disgusted sigh.

_You're a world-famous actress, Vermouth. Act like it._

And so I did.

* * *

I was huddled on my bed, two or three hours after the conference had ended, unsure of what exactly I should be feeling. Sad? Angry? Vengeful?

My mind abruptly pulled up the memory of when I first met Irish. He had reminded me of... Sherry?

_...Sherry? Maybe... no, that's a stupid idea. I shouldn't even consider it..._

Yet somehow I found myself moving towards my desk and extracting a piece of lined paper from the bottom of one of the drawers along with a pen. And I started to write.

_Sherry -_

_I know we were never close, but I believe I can trust you with this information. I was assigned a mission to teach another agent, a man named Irish, how to disguise so he could infiltrate the police force as Commissioner Matsumoto Kiyonaga in order to obtain a memory card with the Organization's list of NOCs. He was_

I paused in my writing. No, I couldn't write he was killed. For some reason, it would finalize the situation, writing it down. I crossed it out and skipped to the next line.

_Is this how you felt when you lost Akemi?_

_Maybe I'll write you again soon._

_- Vermouth_

Somehow I felt better. Debating whether to burn it or not, I stowed it amongst my mask-making supplies.

What followed that single letter was a strange ritual. Whenever something reminded me of Irish, I wrote a letter to Sherry on the subject. Usually these letters ended up being about various missions or assassinations. I wouldn't even dream of actually mailing them, so nothing would ever become of my odd habit... right?

* * *

***end flashback***

* * *

"Vermouth? Vermouth?"

I blinked, Conan's voice forcibly yanking me from my memories.

"So are you going to answer my question? Why did they suspect you of being a traitor?"

Staring at him, I smiled half-heartedly. "It was nothing. No reason." Without letting him demand another reason, I turned and walked out of the Mouris' home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's chapter six! We're back to adventure/drama now, thank God. Well, this is a little bit of mystery, TBH. Enjoy.**

It was at dinner that night when things started to get a little crazy.

As she patted down the top of my rice with the rice paddle, Ran nonchalantly said, "Oh, Catalina, I enrolled you at Conan's school this afternoon."

I blinked, then was vaguely aware of my hand going slack and my chopsticks clattering to the table. "W-What?" In my periphery, I could see Conan hiding a slightly sadistic smirk behind his hand.

"Of course! Did you think you wouldn't have to go to school?" Ran smiled and laughed lightly, setting down my bowl of rice in front of me.

Her father, sitting to her left, snorted as he scooped a clump of rice into his mouth. "She probably did, you know."

Ignoring his comment, I stammered, "But - But - But how did you? My parents..."

"I explained the situation to the principal, and he agreed to take you as a temporary student for as long as Dad takes to find you parents. Conan told me you already met his friends at the professor's, so you already have some friends. Tomorrow, Conan will show you around. Everything will be okay," Ran explained, reaching over to ruffle my hair in a motherly fashion.

I tried to hide my discomfort with the situation as I plowed my way through the night. It didn't exactly help that every so often Conan would shout out a comment about just how _great_ school was just to see my reaction.

Ran told me good night, and I took my designated spot on the couch. Rolling to my side and tugging my borrowed blanket over myself, I tried to force sleep upon myself.

I have faced many things in my life. Things like fights to the death, training on how to stab someone while you're doing the tango, and even getting out of a locked room using only a stiletto. (That was an... let's just say an _interesting_ experience.) But never once in my life have I had to go to school. Well, unless you count my assassin training, but I never thought of that as _school._ More like an extracurricular. One where you practice impaling people on gate spikes and slipping poison into martinis.

When sleep finally washed over me, I could only think one thing.

_I have to go to... school?_

* * *

"Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?" I looked up at the overly perky woman, apparently named Kobayashi Sumiko, who had just spoken.

_No, I would not like to introduce myself to a bunch of idiotic 7-year olds. I am - er, was - a highly ranked member of an organization that is so classified you will probably never hear of it in your lifetime. And if you do, your lifetime is most likely going to become drastically shorter._

That's what I wanted say. I settled for a simple, "My name is Catalina Bond." I let out a grin that matched the ones the other students around the room were sporting.

"There's an empty seat beside... oh, I think Haibara. You can take that one."

Concealing the genuine grin that that threatened to crawl across my face, I walked - nearly skipped - down the aisle to slide into the seat beside Sherry. I could sense her eyes bulging out of her head as I calmly pulled out my notebooks and placed them carefully on the table.

"Good morning, Sherry," I greeted in an undertone.

"You! Why are you _here?!"_ she nearly screamed. Underneath her desk I could see her hands clenching and unclenching furiously.

"Thank that Mouri girl," I answered smugly.

_School is seeming pretty good so far._

* * *

By the time the end of the day rolled around, I was thinking the exact opposite of that thought.

_Who decided it would be a good idea to have school?!_ I thought, close to running to a wall and bashing my head against it. Instead, I forced myself to calmly and carefully replace my books into my backpack and zip it shut.

It was Sherry's turn to smirk maliciously at me. "Nice, isn't it? Everything is so challenging and fun!" she chirruped in a saccharine little girl voice.

Conan stopped beside my desk. "How are you liking it?" he queried, his voice smugly honeyed.

Sending them both death glares that immediately obliterated every sign of triumph, I stood purposefully. "Let's just leave," I demanded icily.

Striding ahead of both of them, I walked over to go grab my shoes. I swiftly slid them on my feet and slammed my locker shut with a swoosh.

My mood didn't improve when I heard my new "friends" shriek delightedly a couple lockers away.

"We got a case!" Ayumi yelped. I closed my eyes and tried to get the shrill ringing out of my ears.

"Is that so?" Conan said, and in turn had a paper flapped violently in his face.

"Yes!" Genta and Mitsuhiko screeched simultaneously, voices filled with glee.

"Really, now?" Sherry asked in a sugar-coated voice. "I'm sure Catalina would _love_ to help us." I whipped around to send her a heated look, but it was too late. The idea had been planted, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Ayumi's already large eyes widened. "You can join the Detective Boys!" She frowned slightly, then added as an afterthought, "Well, at least until you find your parents."

Why. Me.

"Okay. What's the case?" I gulped and turned to the group of kids. Not before I shot the two sources of ultimate evil two more death glares, of course, though.

Mitsuhiko looked at the paper in his hands. "The client said to meet him in the library."

Putting on my most convincing smile (therefore causing Conan and Sherry to hold back laughter), I began to speak. "Let's go!"

_Well,_ I thought bitterly as we started to the library,_ there goes any and every ounce of dignity I thought I had left._

* * *

We found a small boy seated at once of the library's round tables, watching the door steadily and ignoring the librarian's urges for him to leave so the library could close. Upon catching sight of us entering, she sighed and gave up, returning to her desk.

The three real kids ran for the boy, faces lit with anticipation. "So? What happened? Was someone murdered? Did anyone get kidnapped? Who's missing? Tell us, tell us, tell us!" they all yelled simultaneously.

I rolled my eyes. _I do not remember ever acting like that. In my entire life._

The boy, startled by their intensity, blinked a couple of times before stuttering, "N-No, my cat kind of got lost...?"

As the three children looked crestfallen, I nudged Sherry - who flinched and shrank away at my touch - and asked softly, "Does this happen a lot?"

"Yeah," Conan answered for her as he walked forward to console the members of the Detective Boys. "Look, you guys, we can still take the case. At least we'll have something to do for a couple of hours, right?"

The other three brightened slightly.

"Well... I _guess_ we could do it..." Genta said slowly.

The client looked relieved. "Oh, thank you!"

_Oh no. I'm calling a 7-year old boy with a lost cat a_ client._ Someone please save me._

I followed the group of children out the door. All the members of the Detective Boys who actually cared (a.k.a Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta) began to rapidly quiz the boy.

"What kind of cat is it? What color is the fur? Has it ever run away before? Does it like waffles? Or unicorns?" The trivia kept coming and I had to listen hard to remember all the questions.

"It's a Munchkin cat. It's kind of orange and... brown. Aki w-would never run away! He loves to sit at home. And h-he doesn't eat waffles, b-but he loves milk and the food that falls off the table during dinner." He stammered through the answers. I couldn't help but notice he failed to answer the unicorn question...

"He'll be back before the end of the day," Genta announced, certain.

"How do you know?" the boy asked, frowning puzzledly.

"Well you just said that he'd never run away... So he'll be back soon?" Genta replied.

I noticed Conan roll his eyes and mutter something like, "And I've been training them for who knows how long..."

* * *

"Aki! Aki! Aki!"

I rubbed my eyes casually, trying to cover my face. The Detective Boys plus the... boy missing a cat (I refuse to call him a client) were now parading down a random street, screaming the cat's name over and over again like it was some cult chant.

"This is getting us nowhere," Sherry sighed; I couldn't help but agree with her.

Suddenly a brownish orange streak came flashing out of nowhere and jumped into the boy's arms, yowling loudly.

"Aki!" the boy said in surprise, nuzzling the cat against his cheek.

"You're welcome." Genta smiled proudly.

The boy looked at him. "You didn't do anything."

"Yes we did! We-" Genta was cut off by an... unsettling sight.

A body came rocketing out of a nearby house's window accompanied by the sound of shattering glass, skidding to a stop right before our feet. Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, Genta, and the boy screamed; Sherry and Conan tensed. One look at the woman's... disfigured form and dilated pupils easily confirmed that she was no longer breathing.

_My, my. I haven't seen anything quite like this in a while._


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the (extremely long) wait, but we finally got around to writing again. Here is the next chapter.**

Conan bent down and leaned over the woman who had conveniently rocketed out of a window and landed in front of our feet.

I glanced at Conan in slight awe. I mean, obviously I'd heard of his amazing corpse magnet abilities, but to see them firsthand...

"Is... Is she...?" Ayumi's voice quivered with fear as she stared at the woman in front of us.

"Dead." Conan announced solemnly, removing his fingers from the woman's neck where he was checking her pulse.

I stared at the distorted body along with everyone else, but couldn't help muttering, "As if it wasn't obvious." That earned me a look from Conan and a full-on glare from Sherry. But if you've had rigorous training like I have, you know how to easily distinguish whether someone is dead or not. One look at this woman's crumpled figure and glazed-over eyes and you could just tell.

"Ayumi, Genta, Mitsuhiko!" Conan demanded. "Call the police." They all nodded and Ayumi whipped out her shiny, pink cell phone. Wait- why does a 7-year old have a cell phone? I guess that's a question for later.

"So what now?" I asked after Ayumi had finished her call and put her phone away.

Looking at me like I was an idiot, Sherry rolled her eyes and motioned at the house from which the body had flown. "We question them."

* * *

A large man opened the front door, peered around confusedly, and finally looked down. "Oh hello, what may I do for you children?" he asked politely, an eyebrow raised at the six (we sent the lost-cat boy home) seven-year-olds standing in front of him.

"A body just flew out of your house, mister," Conan informed him, smiling brightly.

"W-What?!"

"We already called the police," Mitsuhiko added as we all pushed past the man, who seemed too shocked to move.

"Hey, wait!" He yelled from behind us, but we were already halfway up the staircase. Locating the room with the broken window, we walked in, Conan in the lead.

Genta, Mitsuhiko, and Ayumi all gasped at the bloodstains on the floor. Conan strode forward and kneeled next to them. "These were formed by the victim coughing up blood, going by the pattern. Also, they're dry, so the victim must've been dead for a while before she was thrown out the window."

"Thrown?" Ayumi squeaked.

"Isn't it obvious? That man downstairs is clearly very strong, and there's nobody else around who could've done it," Sherry sighed.

I looked around the room. It was a small, squarish room with wooden flooring. The broken window was across the room from the door, and beside the door was a closet with a curtain drawn across it.

As I surveyed my surroundings, the squeal of police sirens corrupted my ears. It took all I had not to run, just because I had been trained to avoid such a sound.

"You all stay here." Conan instructed. "I'll tell the officers about the body." He promptly left the room, causing the three real kids to go into a fit.

"If he can go, we can go." Genta crossed his arms in protest. "Why does he always get to act like he's so much older?" The other two let out annoyed huffs in agreement and went to follow the way Conan had gone. Sherry sighed and went to look after them.

"Are you coming?" Sherry snapped at me when I showed no signs of following them. I shook my head and turned back to the room. I was a bit amused at her satisfied smile that I was not coming with her little posse of seven-year-olds.

Something about this room was off, I could tell. I've been to - well, created, if you want to get technical - enough crime scenes to know when something isn't right. That man, no matter how bulky, wasn't strong enough to toss that woman all the way to where we had been standing. Even if he was strong enough, the impact upon the woman connecting with the ground highly disfigured her body. Unless he was secretly a robot that can throw with ten times the force of the average of an average human, he had not thrown this woman.

"Little girl, what are you doing here?" A voice startled me out of my observation of the room. A tall, lanky man stood there smiling down at me.

"I'm here to solve the case." I said, trying my best to sound how Ayumi, Genta, and Mitsuhiko did when they told everyone they were detectives.

The man laughed. "What case? I live here, there isn't any case." He shook his head as if what I said was hysterical. I just sighed and pointed out the broken window. Why does no one believe little kids? Oh wait. Because they're little kids.

"My window!" The man shrieked. (At a higher octave than a man should shriek, might I add.) His face paled considerably when he actually looked out the window. "Atsuko." He whispered before jumping through the broken window. I stared wide-eyed and ran to where the man had just stood.

Through the window, I spotted him running up to the patrol cars where an annoyed-looking Conan was already standing, surrounded by his fellow 'detectives'.

"Officers! Officers, what happened!" he sobbed dramatically, loud enough for me to hear from where I was. I rolled my eyes.

A pretty, short-haired police officer exited her red FD, accompanied by a tall, tan man. I watched as they tried to console the weeping man.

Turning my attention back to the room, I found I still couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. It was a strange feeling, but finally, after another ten minutes, I gave up and left, finding Conan and the others downstairs.

They were standing beside the lady officer and tan man from earlier, who were interrogating the burly man who owned the house.

"Mr. Kawashita, what is your relation to the deceased?" The woman was saying as I strolled up and stood beside Sherry.

"My relation to Atsuko?" Mr. Kawashita flinched visibly and looked away.

"Yes?" pressed the male officer.

"We... I was her brother," he answered. "But we've always been a little... uh... well, we've never seen eye-to-eye. I despised her fiance - he's the one who threw himself out that window."

"You were the only one in the house when the body was launched out of the room, correct?" the woman detective asked.

"Yes. It can't be that you two are suspecting me, could it?" Mr. Kawashita said with a hearty laugh, though I saw his eyes flickering nervously from one officer's face to the other.

"No no, it's just standard procedure," the short-haired woman soothed. "You're dismissed; we'll call for you if we need further information."

Mr. Kawashita nodded and left the room.

I reached over and prodded Conan. "So?"

"The body was that of Kawashita Atsuko, a thirty-eight-year-old mathematician -"

"Mathematician?" I echoed, an eyebrow raised.

He shot me a glare. "Yes. She was engaged to a man named Kaneshiro Jun -"

"I saw him. He was the one who jumped out the window."

"Do you want to hear the autopsy report or what?"

I raised my hands in a surrender, smirking.

"She had been dead for about an hour before she was shot out the window. The cause of death was poison, hydrochloric acid to be exact." He winced. "Anyway, the body was in pretty bad shape because of the acid. Her clothes were slightly singed, though, for undetermined reasons. She was here with her fiance to visit her brother, but all three of them got into an fiance, Kaneshiro, left the house for a little to take a drive and cool off - Kawashita watched him leave - and the two siblings split up inside the house. Apparently when they split was the last time Kawashita saw his sister alive."

I nodded slowly. "Okay... what were they arguing about?"

Conan shrugged. "Kawashita won't say."

"Oh, who's this?" I heard a female voice say behind me. I turned and found myself staring at the female officer.

I sighed, but quickly forced on a smile. "I'm Catalina Bond." I said cheerfully. Man, was I getting tired of all these introductions. "I'm staying with Conan." I explained.

The female officer nodded. "I'm Officer Sato. Ran talked about you - don't worry." She kneeled down to my height. "I'm sure we'll find your parents in no time." She stood up when I nodded, then turned back to the male officer. Somehow I doubt they'll be finding James and Abigail Bond any time soon.

"I want to know what that fight was about." I told Conan, narrowing my eyes at Kawashita and Kaneshiro, who were both just standing, looking as if this was an everyday situation.

Conan snorted. "You aren't going to get anything out of them. The police hounded both of them for ten minutes straight."

I knew that this was indirectly some kind of challenge. "Want to bet?" I asked, but didn't wait for a response as I strode over to the two gentlemen.

I looked up at the two men, pulling out my most innocent face. "Hi." I said meekly, but loud enough for both of them to hear me.

"Little girl?" Kaneshiro asked, surprised. "What is it?" He asked gently.

"That... that lady... she's dead." I whispered, trying to sound frightened. They both nodded, Kawashita looking slightly sad and Kaneshiro looking completely distressed. Even more distressed than a damsel. "What were you fighting about?" I asked, widening my already childish doe-like eyes.

Kawashita's mouth tensed and his eyes narrowed, not telling me even though I was only a kid.

"It's not important. It's grown-up stuff." Kaneshiro cooed as if he were talking to a sick animal instead of a child.

I frowned. "My mom always says that to me. Why can't I know grown-up stuff?" I asked. That's actually quite true, though. The only mother figures I've ever had were teaching me how to knock an opponent twice your size out. See, that's little-kid stuff.

"Because you have to be a grown-up to know grown up stuff!" Kawashita growled, glaring fiercely at me.

Perfect. A smile curved up one side of my mouth before I abruptly burst into tears and began screaming.

Kaneshiro looked uncomfortable whereas Kawashita tried to act like it didn't bother him for about three seconds before he starting saying hoarsely, "Shh, kid, it's okay, it's nothing really, I didn't -"

I screamed all the louder.

Now Officer Sato and her friend were frowning over at us. "Is something wrong?" the male officer yelled over my shrill screeches.

Kawashita looked panickedly at him. "Oh, uh, yeah!" he stammered, leaning over. "Hey, kid, shut up!" he hissed in my ear.

Again, I screamed all the louder, my voice elevating in pitch and volume.

"Okay, okay!" Kaneshiro muttered, leaning over to whisper to me. "We were arguing about who would get the last piece of cake!"

I stopped sobbing abruptly.

"See? It's nothing big, right?" Kaneshiro smiled, nudging Kawashita.

"Actually, weren't we arguing about you two getting married? You wanted to wait a year, she wanted to wait a month, and I didn't want it to happen at all -"

"You idiot!" Kaneshiro half-yelled.

"Oh, okay," I said. "Thanks for telling me!" I skipped over to Conan, smiling brightly.

"I take it that went well?"

"They were arguing over the wedding date," I explained.

"Really?"

"That or who would get the last piece of cake."

He looked at me strangely.

"Anyway, what does Kanashiro do for a living?" I asked. "Lie to little girls? Or maybe he's a baker?"

"No, according to Officer Takagi, that other police officer, he used to work at a circus, but now he owns a donkey stable."

"A... donkey stable?"

"Don't ask." Conan sighed.

I turned to survey the scene in front of me. "So basically, this case is made up of a broken window, a donkey stable owner, hydrochloric acid, singed clothes, and a flying body." I looked over at Conan, who was frowning at me. "Work your magic, Cool Guy."


End file.
